


Flowers on a Thursday Night

by peaches_the_fruit



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaches_the_fruit/pseuds/peaches_the_fruit
Summary: “It’s just, you seem to be the only one who works here, and well, not to be rude, but you don’t seem to know very much about flowers,” they fidgeted with the end of their braid as they talked. Montparnasse stared at them, dumbfounded.“You want to work. Here,” he repeated. Jehan nodded their head excitedly. Montparnasse sighed. “I- I’ll talk to my manager,” a wide grin spread across Jehan’s face.“I already wrote out a resume,” they rummaged through their messy bag, pulling out a neatly written resume. “You can give it to your manager,” Montparnasse took the resume.“Alright then,” he said slowly. “I’ll do that,” Jehan smiled at him again, and Montparnasse felt his cheeks flush. He turned quickly, hoping that Jehan hadn’t noticed. Jehan wandered towards the door, pausing to wave goodbye before he left.“Goodbye, ‘Parnasse! See you tomorrow!” Montparnasse groaned. He was officially screwed.・・・Or, Jehan gets a job at the Black Dahlia Flower Shop (which is actually a cover for the Patron-Minette), and Montparnasse is completely and totally screwed.
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Brujon/Azelma Thénardier, Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Flowers on a Thursday Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Jehanparnasse fic, so hopefully it turns out well! Come say hi on tumblr at peaches-the-fruit :)

Montparnasse was not a morning person. He didn’t understand how people could be happy, and smiling, and laughing and talking before 9AM. It was 8:04, which, in Montparnasse’s opinion, was entirely too early. If it was up to Parnasse, he would still be in bed. Sadly, the shop opened at eight, and Babet would kill him if he were to open late.

  
So there he stood at the counter of the Black Dahlia Flower Shop, sipping at his black coffee as he waited for the first of the early morning customers to come in. As if on cue, the door swung open and Courfeyrac strode in, a wide grin on his face.

  
“Good morning!” he called cheerfully. Montparnasse glared at him, not bothering to dignify him with a response. Courfeyrac worked at the Cafe Musain, the coffee shop next door. He came in every morning with that same positive attitude and stupid grin that Montparnasse wanted to smack off of his freckled face. Parnasse wasn’t even sure why he came. He never bought anything. Courfeyrac sidled up to the counter, his obnoxiously bright yellow bowtie displayed proudly on his chest. Montparnasse has the sudden urge to rip it off and burn it.

  
“‘Parnasse, my friend, how are you doing this fine day?”

  
“We are not friends,” he muttered grumpily, taking another sip of his coffee. Courfeyrac gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart.

“I am offended!”

  
“Good,” Courfeyrac huffed and crossed his arms.

  
“Montparnasse, stop terrorizing the customers!” a voice called from the backroom.

  
“It’s just Courfeyrac, Clasquesous, he doesn’t count as a customer!” Parnasse snapped back. Clasquesous’s bellowing laugh grows louder as he comes through the door of the backroom, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands.

  
“Courfeyrac,” he says, patting him on the shoulder in greeting as he makes his way to the front to drop off the delivery. Courfeyrac gives him a dazzling smile. Montparnasse sighs and goes to water the roses, for lack of better things to do. Courfeyrac follows him, chattering endlessly about who knows what.

  
“And then, you’ll never believe what she said. She said-”

  
“Don’t you have a job to be at?” Montparnasse interrupts. It’s too early for him to deal with Courfeyrac. Usually one of his co-workers has called him back by this point. Courfeyrac just shrugs.

  
“Enjolras is off today,” he explained.

  
“So you just left Combeferre alone in there?”

  
“Well-”

  
“To deal with all of the customers by himself?”

  
“I-”

  
“Shouldn’t you go back and help?” Montparnasse pressed. Courfeyrac opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to decide against it. He sighed.

  
“I guess,” Montparnasse took Courfeyrac by the shoulders and steered him towards the door. Courfeyrac waved goodbye, heading in the direction of the Musain. Montparnasse sighed in relief as the door shut behind him. He walked back over to the counter and took a sip of his now cold coffee. Clasquesous must have returned at some point, because he can hear him bustling around in the back room. Montparnasse glanced at his watch. 8:47. He groaned and laid his head down on the counter.

・・・

The Black Dahlia is rarely a busy place. They get maybe a dozen customers on most days. Today was not one of those days. A large group had come in around nine thirty, placing orders and selecting flowers. Montparnasse had done his best, writing down the orders for Clasquesous and arranging bouquets for the customers. By the time he stopped for his lunch break, he was about ready to murder the next person who came through the door. It wasn’t that Montparnasse didn’t like people. He was quite the social butterfly. But the crowds that he hung around with were much different then the type of people who came into the Black Dahlia.  
The afternoon was just as busy, with a steady stream of customers coming in and out. Montparnasse glared angrily at the stupid bell that Babet had hung above the door, the one that jingled obnoxiously whenever anyone so much as brushed against the door. How he hated that bell.

・・・

Montparnasse was closing up shop when the bell jingled (he was going to melt that stupid thing).

  
“We’re closed!” he called without glancing up from the flowers (lily’s, maybe? He wasn’t sure) that he was watering. He waited for the bell to jingle again, a sign that the person had left, but for once the bell was silent. Montparnasse turns towards the door, trying to keep his temper under control.

  
“I said-” he freezes. Standing near the doorway of the shop is the one of the cutest people he has ever seen. They’re long, bright red hair was braided over their shoulder, and their lime green poncho clashed horribly with their red hair and coral floral patterned leggings. If anyone else had been wearing that, Montparnasse would’ve insulted them for their terrible fashion sense, but they managed to pull it off. The person was looking confusedly at a pot of colorful flowers by the door.

  
“Can we help you?” Clasquesous’s voice said from behind Montparnasse. The person turned to them, as if just noticing they were there.

  
“Oh! I was wondering if you had any daffodils?” they asked. Clasquesous looked over at Montparnasse. Do we? He mouthed. Montparnasse shrugged.

  
“I’m uh, I’m sure we do. ‘Parnasse here can help you,” he said as he backed towards the backroom. Montparnasse glared after him. The ginger cleared their throat.

  
“Right,” Montparnasse said. He began to stroll through the store, checking the labels on the flowers as he passed. " _Daffodil… daffodil…_ " he muttered to himself. He stopped at a bunch of bright yellow flowers near the end of the aisle. “These, right?” The ginger nodded.

  
“Yes, thank you,” Montparnasse waited for them to pick out the ones they wanted, then quickly rang them up at the counter.

  
“Have a nice evening!” the adorable redhead called as they exited the shop, the brightly colored flowers clutched in their hand. Montparnasse watched them go, then sighed and began locking up the shop. He was too tired for this.


End file.
